When I hear the word Exercise I don't really think of fun. Looking back, when I was a kid 'exercise' was fun but that's because is wasn't called exercise, it was called playing, riding my bike, beating people in races and at kickball games. And I know that there is a current fad of calling working out 'playing' that some super fit person dreamed up and that's all fine and good for them, but I'm not at the play-exercising point in my journey just yet.
I used to be really, really fit. It's almost unfathomable now, and when I tell my husband he has a hard time believing me, but I used to be the best athlete I knew. I won the President's Physical Fitness Award every year without trying and I even won second place in the 100 meter dash at the Oregon State Games when I was 12. My mom isn't one for cluttery photo collages or any framed photos for that matter so no one would know what my childhood was like, other than my sisters and my senior pictures, my parent's appear to be childless to the random visitor. So when I happen upon old photos of the active, physically fit me it's a surprise.
But I digress. I was ruminating on exercise and my current dispassion for it. I have had a few fun workouts in the recent past, don't get me wrong, the husband and I were going to a trainer twice a week until in became too expensive and that was a really fun time. I also don't think we were getting much of a workout because we ended up feeling like we were just hanging out with our trainer and shooting the breeze. We can be talkers and our trainer is a really cool guy who is also a talker so things never really felt work-out-y. I don't really recall ever being very out of breath and I'm pretty sure that's one of the basics of cardiovascular improvement. I also rarely broke a good sweat that wasn't directly related to the temperature in the room.
But as with all good weight loss endeavors, I am back at it. I bought a treadmill off of Craigslist for $100 and was rousted out of bed (by said husband) this morning at 5:45 to climb onto it. I have also been assigned the task of squeezing in a workout at lunch time (then I forgot my gym bag this morning) and one after work.
That's right people, 3 workouts a day, this is happening.
Also, thus far today I have consumed a 32 ounce Coke Zero and a Special K protein bar and it's 4:30 pm. Looks like that whole sensible eating thing is not the route I'm taking.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Slow and Steady
I LOVE instant gratification. I'm that type of girl. This trait was passed down to me by my parents and I will no doubt, despite my best efforts, pass it down to my kids. I think this is a combination of human nature, ADD and good old fashioned heredity.
I actually used to be much, much worse but I married a man who can wait for some things forever (others require no such waiting). He will allow food that he really loves to rot in the refrigerator because he is saving it. He makes me wait to see movies that I really want to see for so long that more often than not I forget that they exist. He doesn't do this to torture me or to be spiteful, he really thinks that it's better to have things out there waiting for you than to enjoy them now.
I admire this in some ways but often it just drives me bonkers.
Where this instant gratification problem really gets in the way is with dieting. People always say, "it took you a long time to put on the weight, so it takes a long time to lose it". I say bullshit. I can easily gain 5 pounds in less than a week. And I sure as hell can't lose 5 pounds in less than a week, safely anyway.
When I was 23 I had gotten pretty fat. As fat as I am now minus 10 pounds actually. It was truly shocking when I got on the scale and realized what I had done to myself. I remember it very well because at that very same time my body decided to take matters into her own hands by developing a wicked case of what I initially thought was lactose intolerance. But even when I quit dairy, things continued ... very ugly things. To be completely candid I would get the most horrifyingly painful and explosive D whenever I ate. The only pattern I could see was that if I ate anything with fat in it, even avocados, it would happen. Anywhere and everywhere. And as I had just started college, I was terrified to eat. To avoid the pain and to avoid having to camp out in a campus bathroom. This led to me not eating anything but canned green beans and white rice. I would carry a luna bar around with me at school and some days that would be the only thing I ate.
Needless to say, I lost all the weight -- 70 pounds to be exact -- in about 3 months.
I felt on top of the world.
Now that I need to diet and lost this weight again I am so tempted to go back to that. I know it's awful, I know it's terrible for my body. But I also know that it works, fast. I could lose all this weight by the end of the summer.
Or I could follow the conventional wisdom of the dieting community and count calories and 'safely' lose 2 to 3 pounds a week. That would only take me around 42 weeks, being perfect every single day.
I'm not perfect.
I actually used to be much, much worse but I married a man who can wait for some things forever (others require no such waiting). He will allow food that he really loves to rot in the refrigerator because he is saving it. He makes me wait to see movies that I really want to see for so long that more often than not I forget that they exist. He doesn't do this to torture me or to be spiteful, he really thinks that it's better to have things out there waiting for you than to enjoy them now.
I admire this in some ways but often it just drives me bonkers.
Where this instant gratification problem really gets in the way is with dieting. People always say, "it took you a long time to put on the weight, so it takes a long time to lose it". I say bullshit. I can easily gain 5 pounds in less than a week. And I sure as hell can't lose 5 pounds in less than a week, safely anyway.
When I was 23 I had gotten pretty fat. As fat as I am now minus 10 pounds actually. It was truly shocking when I got on the scale and realized what I had done to myself. I remember it very well because at that very same time my body decided to take matters into her own hands by developing a wicked case of what I initially thought was lactose intolerance. But even when I quit dairy, things continued ... very ugly things. To be completely candid I would get the most horrifyingly painful and explosive D whenever I ate. The only pattern I could see was that if I ate anything with fat in it, even avocados, it would happen. Anywhere and everywhere. And as I had just started college, I was terrified to eat. To avoid the pain and to avoid having to camp out in a campus bathroom. This led to me not eating anything but canned green beans and white rice. I would carry a luna bar around with me at school and some days that would be the only thing I ate.
Needless to say, I lost all the weight -- 70 pounds to be exact -- in about 3 months.
I felt on top of the world.
Now that I need to diet and lost this weight again I am so tempted to go back to that. I know it's awful, I know it's terrible for my body. But I also know that it works, fast. I could lose all this weight by the end of the summer.
Or I could follow the conventional wisdom of the dieting community and count calories and 'safely' lose 2 to 3 pounds a week. That would only take me around 42 weeks, being perfect every single day.
I'm not perfect.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The Vicious Cycle
The weekend was a bit of a diet bust. But I did hold back and only have 2 bites when the husband ordered this:
I am fairly positive that I am gaining weight but I'm too scared to find out. My boobs hurt like crazy and my feet hurt, both sure signs of new pounds on my already swollen frame. I feel pretty bummed out lately and I am trying very hard not to take it out on the people who love me. I have a tendency to get defensive and be a huge bitch when I feel bad about myself.
I feel myself slipping into a depression and I have to get out of it before it starts. If I let myself slip further into this it will only get worse. I'll gain more because I am unhappy and then I will be even more unhappy because I am gaining. Then my unhappiness will make my husband unhappy because he inevitably will start to take it personally. I love my husband more than most wives love their husbands. I can honestly say that he is my very best friend. We share everything and I have no doubt in my mind that we will be together for the rest of our lives. But the one thing that we absolutely do not share is a weight problem. He has gained a few pounds here and there in the past, which have 'jokingly' been blamed on me because I'm a feeder. But he is able to lose extra weight and has a healthy self image. He tries to relate to my issues but inevitably he just ends up getting angry with me because of a perceived feeling of inadequacy at not being able to solve my problem.
I'm tired of letting him down. And I'm tired of feeling like a failure.
The only direction I can go is up at this point. I guess that will have to be my positive statement for the day.
I am fairly positive that I am gaining weight but I'm too scared to find out. My boobs hurt like crazy and my feet hurt, both sure signs of new pounds on my already swollen frame. I feel pretty bummed out lately and I am trying very hard not to take it out on the people who love me. I have a tendency to get defensive and be a huge bitch when I feel bad about myself.
I feel myself slipping into a depression and I have to get out of it before it starts. If I let myself slip further into this it will only get worse. I'll gain more because I am unhappy and then I will be even more unhappy because I am gaining. Then my unhappiness will make my husband unhappy because he inevitably will start to take it personally. I love my husband more than most wives love their husbands. I can honestly say that he is my very best friend. We share everything and I have no doubt in my mind that we will be together for the rest of our lives. But the one thing that we absolutely do not share is a weight problem. He has gained a few pounds here and there in the past, which have 'jokingly' been blamed on me because I'm a feeder. But he is able to lose extra weight and has a healthy self image. He tries to relate to my issues but inevitably he just ends up getting angry with me because of a perceived feeling of inadequacy at not being able to solve my problem.
I'm tired of letting him down. And I'm tired of feeling like a failure.
The only direction I can go is up at this point. I guess that will have to be my positive statement for the day.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Derailed on the First Day
Yesterday morning I was full of determination. I was going to make it happen. Conquering my issues and all that.
Then lunch came and I made a poor decision followed by a few more.
The consumption details:
Breakfast -- 3 eggs w/ham and salsa
This is a pretty normal breakfast for me, I can get it at the cafeteria for $2.13 and it's a no carb situation which is good.
Guilt level -- 3
Lunch -- 2 chicken taco special with rice and beans
This was not what I walked down to the cafeteria for. I planned to and was looking forward to getting a grilled chicken salad. But I saw the special and had an out of body experience. Meaning I lost all control of myself and watched my alter ego order the exact opposite of what I intended to get. Then I sat by and watched her pick up a brownie and buy that too. But don't worry, I got a diet coke to go with it... I don't drink my calories!
Cooler heads prevailed when it came to actually eating the brownie though... I had half and threw the rest out.
Guilt level -- 8
Dinner -- Chipotle Chicken Burrito
Thursday nights are dog obedience for the greatest pooch in history, Carl, from 6 to 7. This has proved to be bad for dinner time because in addition to the fact that I have not gone to the grocery store this week, I'm tired from a long work day and the last thing I want to do is cook a meal after 7 pm.
The choice wasn't too bad though, I've made worse decisions -- like last week when we had Philly Cheese steaks and fries after class. For the burrito I asked for half the normal amount of rice, got black beans instead of re-fried, but kept my mouth conspicuously shut when the lady poured sour cream and cheese on it. I also could have asked for a salad at the very beginning, but didn't.
Guilt level -- 7
All in all yesterday was a pretty good day professionally and a really bad day dietarily. One of the biggest thorns in my side at work had her last day. For the purposes of this blog she will be known as Hey You! because that's what she trills each and every time she thunders by my office. Hey You! has been making my life difficult for almost two years now and to see her go was a huge relief. She is without a doubt my boss's true arch nemesis and therefore a constant source of complication and drama for me because I have to (wait HAD to) be the one in the middle. But no more!
I'm excited to see what this new day will bring. Will Hey You!'s replacement be better? God I hope so because I can't take the stress.
Oh but wait! Just like any good emotional eater, I have left things out without even realizing that I did it! This is supposed to be an honest accounting of my intake and the reasons behind it and I almost forgot a bunch of stuff. Sheesh! I also consumed a 'Just and Handful' bag of cashews, almonds and cranberries from Trader Joe's, a Luna Bar and a piece of going-away-party cake. AND I drank 2 glasses of wine. I think that's it... I hope that's it.
On the exercise front, unless you count walking the dog around PetSmart for 20 minutes, I got zero. More on exercise in another post.
Then lunch came and I made a poor decision followed by a few more.
The consumption details:
Breakfast -- 3 eggs w/ham and salsa
This is a pretty normal breakfast for me, I can get it at the cafeteria for $2.13 and it's a no carb situation which is good.
Guilt level -- 3
Lunch -- 2 chicken taco special with rice and beans
This was not what I walked down to the cafeteria for. I planned to and was looking forward to getting a grilled chicken salad. But I saw the special and had an out of body experience. Meaning I lost all control of myself and watched my alter ego order the exact opposite of what I intended to get. Then I sat by and watched her pick up a brownie and buy that too. But don't worry, I got a diet coke to go with it... I don't drink my calories!
Cooler heads prevailed when it came to actually eating the brownie though... I had half and threw the rest out.
Guilt level -- 8
Dinner -- Chipotle Chicken Burrito
Thursday nights are dog obedience for the greatest pooch in history, Carl, from 6 to 7. This has proved to be bad for dinner time because in addition to the fact that I have not gone to the grocery store this week, I'm tired from a long work day and the last thing I want to do is cook a meal after 7 pm.
The choice wasn't too bad though, I've made worse decisions -- like last week when we had Philly Cheese steaks and fries after class. For the burrito I asked for half the normal amount of rice, got black beans instead of re-fried, but kept my mouth conspicuously shut when the lady poured sour cream and cheese on it. I also could have asked for a salad at the very beginning, but didn't.
Guilt level -- 7
All in all yesterday was a pretty good day professionally and a really bad day dietarily. One of the biggest thorns in my side at work had her last day. For the purposes of this blog she will be known as Hey You! because that's what she trills each and every time she thunders by my office. Hey You! has been making my life difficult for almost two years now and to see her go was a huge relief. She is without a doubt my boss's true arch nemesis and therefore a constant source of complication and drama for me because I have to (wait HAD to) be the one in the middle. But no more!
I'm excited to see what this new day will bring. Will Hey You!'s replacement be better? God I hope so because I can't take the stress.
Oh but wait! Just like any good emotional eater, I have left things out without even realizing that I did it! This is supposed to be an honest accounting of my intake and the reasons behind it and I almost forgot a bunch of stuff. Sheesh! I also consumed a 'Just and Handful' bag of cashews, almonds and cranberries from Trader Joe's, a Luna Bar and a piece of going-away-party cake. AND I drank 2 glasses of wine. I think that's it... I hope that's it.
On the exercise front, unless you count walking the dog around PetSmart for 20 minutes, I got zero. More on exercise in another post.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Best Hobby Ever?
As the title of this blog suggests, I have an issue with my weight. I wish I was more original, but that's just one more reason that I suck.
The point I am at now is roughly 20 years, give or take a few years of thin, in the making. Focusing on my weight and obsessing over my appearance has without a doubt been the most consistent activity in my life. I have graduated from various institutions of higher learning, obtained and ditched jobs, dated, broken up, married an amazing man, etc., etc. All the while my big fat ass has been my constant companion. The one I can always count on. There is something almost reassuring in that, as sad as that is. I always have it to blame when times are tough.
Every year at the start of summer and my birthday (which happens to fall around the end of the year -- New Year's Resolution time!) I have an epiphany. I'm not going to live like this anymore! I'm not going to hate myself anymore! By this time next year I'll be a new person, I'll be running marathons and fitting into size 4 jeans! It's going to be fantastic! And I'm GOING to DO it. This time will be different. This time I'll follow through and make myself over into the person that I really am under all this fat. The REAL me, not this padded impostor who is intent on ruining my life. And then shit happens, I don't get results and I give up.
I have had more 'last hurrah' meals than I can count. I've done the 'very last time McDonald's breakfast', the 'my diet starts Monday Red Robin grease fest', et al.
I could blame my mother, who among many, many things used to mock me when I came home from school by calling me Doritos breath or who called me obese once when I was really only about 20 pounds overweight or who would make me go jogging with her and then get mad at me and lash out when I wouldn't race her, as if the whole thing was just good fun mother-daughter bonding. I could blame my dad who sat back and let her pick on me for years and never once defended me even though he also has weight issues. I could blame my beloved grandmother who once grabbed my back fat and told me I would have to starve myself for a week to look good in my prom dress. And on and on it goes....
But the only person I have to blame is myself. No one forced me to overeat for comfort when my mom picked on me (because she "loves me so much" -- yikes) or when I was depressed, or for joy when things were great. I am to blame for my bad choices.
So, summer is upon us and I am once again stating -- in public no less -- that I am going to change my life. I'm going to get it together. Why is it going to work this time? Why would this be any different?
Because I turned 35 this year and I am about to go under the knife to have my baby-maker fixed.
My amazing husband and I have been trying to have a child for over 2 years now with no luck. In that time I have watched relatives and friends turn out enough younglings to fill a small school. It's painful to fail for 24 months in a row. Really painful. And it's even more painful when seemingly everyone around you won't shut up about their wonderful 'miracles' OR constantly ask why you don't have kids.
So, after I have surgery, I should be good to go. Which means that I could get pregnant. Which also means that I will most likely want to live to a ripe old age and not die of obesity related illness.
I also want to look good in my clothes.
And my fertility doctor said he was shocked to see how much I weigh. I hide it well. And that he wants to see me in the overweight range instead of the morbidly obese category. I have to agree with him.
From this day on, I will be posting as often as I can what I eat, how I feel about it and everything in between. Will it keep me honest? I hope so.
The point I am at now is roughly 20 years, give or take a few years of thin, in the making. Focusing on my weight and obsessing over my appearance has without a doubt been the most consistent activity in my life. I have graduated from various institutions of higher learning, obtained and ditched jobs, dated, broken up, married an amazing man, etc., etc. All the while my big fat ass has been my constant companion. The one I can always count on. There is something almost reassuring in that, as sad as that is. I always have it to blame when times are tough.
Every year at the start of summer and my birthday (which happens to fall around the end of the year -- New Year's Resolution time!) I have an epiphany. I'm not going to live like this anymore! I'm not going to hate myself anymore! By this time next year I'll be a new person, I'll be running marathons and fitting into size 4 jeans! It's going to be fantastic! And I'm GOING to DO it. This time will be different. This time I'll follow through and make myself over into the person that I really am under all this fat. The REAL me, not this padded impostor who is intent on ruining my life. And then shit happens, I don't get results and I give up.
I have had more 'last hurrah' meals than I can count. I've done the 'very last time McDonald's breakfast', the 'my diet starts Monday Red Robin grease fest', et al.
I could blame my mother, who among many, many things used to mock me when I came home from school by calling me Doritos breath or who called me obese once when I was really only about 20 pounds overweight or who would make me go jogging with her and then get mad at me and lash out when I wouldn't race her, as if the whole thing was just good fun mother-daughter bonding. I could blame my dad who sat back and let her pick on me for years and never once defended me even though he also has weight issues. I could blame my beloved grandmother who once grabbed my back fat and told me I would have to starve myself for a week to look good in my prom dress. And on and on it goes....
But the only person I have to blame is myself. No one forced me to overeat for comfort when my mom picked on me (because she "loves me so much" -- yikes) or when I was depressed, or for joy when things were great. I am to blame for my bad choices.
So, summer is upon us and I am once again stating -- in public no less -- that I am going to change my life. I'm going to get it together. Why is it going to work this time? Why would this be any different?
Because I turned 35 this year and I am about to go under the knife to have my baby-maker fixed.
My amazing husband and I have been trying to have a child for over 2 years now with no luck. In that time I have watched relatives and friends turn out enough younglings to fill a small school. It's painful to fail for 24 months in a row. Really painful. And it's even more painful when seemingly everyone around you won't shut up about their wonderful 'miracles' OR constantly ask why you don't have kids.
So, after I have surgery, I should be good to go. Which means that I could get pregnant. Which also means that I will most likely want to live to a ripe old age and not die of obesity related illness.
I also want to look good in my clothes.
And my fertility doctor said he was shocked to see how much I weigh. I hide it well. And that he wants to see me in the overweight range instead of the morbidly obese category. I have to agree with him.
From this day on, I will be posting as often as I can what I eat, how I feel about it and everything in between. Will it keep me honest? I hope so.
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